Sony Pictures Classics
There are a lot of actors that try and do more, delving into writing and directing. Some are fine, some are inspirational, and some aren’t that great. It’s a great temptation, I must imagine, but that doesn’t mean respecting someone as an actor must mean you grant all their work with the same brush.
Final Portrait comes from writer/director Stanley Tucci, who has his strengths and weaknesses. He seems a delight, for example, and he’s a great actor — perhaps his best work may even have been in the Captain America movie, and he was barely in that one. He has a good idea as a director, and an interesting perspective on film. As a writer though, I wouldn’t say he’s particularly groundbreaking. So too it is here.
The movie takes place in Paris 1964, following a few weeks in the life of famed artist Alberto Giacometti (Geoffrey Rush). Giacometti happens to run into an old friend of his, American writer and critic James Lord (Armie Hammer), and is inspired to ask a favor. Model for him for a new portrait, and of course, James cannot turn such a request down.
But it’s not as simple as a few hours or even a few days, as the perfectionist artist paints fitfully, restarting again and again, and the days stretch on, as James delays his regular life in the meantime. In the respites between posing, James begins to learn about the people that surround the great artist. His brother Diego (Tony Shalhoub) manages the practical side of the business, but has his own longstanding issues with his brother.
His wife Annette (Sylvie Testud), rarely seen, quite meek, and often quite ignored. And of course there’s local prostitute Caroline (Clémence Poésy), another inspiration for many of Alberto’s paintings and likely more. There are long, long stretches of nothingness in this movie, punctured by individual scenes of mild drama or philosophical musings in conversation. There is an open question below the surface: Is all this really worth it?
Admittedly, the question is a popular one of late, although I found it more meaningful in Phantom Thread. The problem here is a reliance on immersion and acting. There are no weak actors here, with Geoffrey Rush imbuing his character with much of what you may never have known already about the real life man, and Armie Hammer works well as the straight man to the various eccentricities that surround him.
But I tended to find the movie often quite repetitive, and straining to find true depth in a story based on real events. That is always tricky, finding themes in reality, which inherently has none, but it can and has been done. So here the acting is strong, and often the scenes are painted well, but the story isn’t so interesting, and I had trouble connecting with the characters.
To me, I feel like this is a bit too specific a passion project to be truly universal in its appeal, meaning it will be the rare person who really loves this movie. But it’s a decent one, with a few hidden depths, and I think Stanley Tucci has an even better movie in his future.
Final Portrait has a run time of 1 hour 30 minutes and is rated R for language, some sexual references and nudity.
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